a conditional friendship

"I've decided that we can be friends," the girl said nonchalantly, pressing her beer against her cheek.

"Have you? How very generous of you," Cole answered, turning on his barstool to look at her.

"On three conditions," she said, smiling slyly at him as she held up three perfectly manicured fingers.

"Conditions on a friendship with a beautiful girl that I just met at a bar? This already sounds like a complicated friendship," he responded, clicking his tongue in distaste.

“Don’t ever call me beautiful,” she said, looking him dead in the eye.

She held up three fingers again.

"One: you don't ask me what my name is," she said, eliciting a strange look from the bartender.

"Why can't I know your name?" he asked curiously, wondering what he was getting himself into.

"Two: you don't ask me anything about myself and accept that nearly everything I ever tell you will be a complete and utter lie," she continued on, ignoring his question.

He stayed quiet, not really knowing what to say.

"And three: you can't fall in love with me, because I'm only a dream, an idea. I can only pretend to be whoever you want me to be for so long, then I'll disappear, and you'll have to forget about me."

"Are you a hooker?" he asked, not really sure of what response he was hoping to hear.

She laughed aloud, not looking at him as she downed the contents of her bottle. "If only I were a hooker, my life would be so much less complicated."

"Who are you?" he asked, wondering how he managed to attract such an obviously unbalanced girl.

"I'm your new friend Jane," she said, not skipping a beat.

"What's your real name?" he asked.

“It’s whatever you want it to be.”